No More Yesterdays
by myhomeistheshire
Summary: Cassandra has known for a long time that she's dying. It's more difficult to leave than she expected.


For every day of her life, Cassandra has thought about numbers.

She didn't realize it was abnormal until she started school, and on the first day was already surpassing the teachers. She went home that day in tears, because the other kids had called her a freak. Her parents loved her, though, no matter how bad it got in school. They loved her, but they didn't understand her. No one did, no one _could._ And when, in the course of a year, she'd found out about the tumor and her parents had been hit by a semi while driving out to the city, Cassandra had almost snapped.

She'd been accepted to Harvard, and Yale, and Stanford - everywhere she'd applied. But after all that, she couldn't. Besides, what was a college degree going to get her, with only a few years left?

So, she moved. Not very far away - she'd miss home too much - but just far enough to make a fresh start. She didn't mind it, but it was lonely. She's never been good at making friends, and the janitor job she took didn't exactly help.

The day Baird and Flynn find her is the day Cassandra starts to wake up.

* * *

She doesn't know how to describe it, except that she's pretty sure this is the closest thing she's had to a family in a long time. She still misses her parents, misses them _every day,_ but it doesn't hurt so much anymore. And whenever she starts to think about them, or her _brain grape,_ they're suddenly there - Baird with her stern but kind wisdom, Flynn with his crazy adventures, Zeke with his surprising softness - and, of course, Jake. Jake, with his shattering sweetness and his soft smiles when he thinks no one is watching. When she's around him she feels like she did the time she went skydiving - like she can't quite catch her breath, like she's just one step away from falling - or maybe flying. She's not really sure which.

She tries to keep her head surrounded with nubers when he tells her,_ I like you, Cassie. There's no way around it, I just do. But, I trusted you...and, uh, I learned my lesson._ She folds her hands together, drowns herself in equations. Because this - numbers, facts, absolutes - _this,_ she knows how to deal with. _Two more years_, she thinks to herself._ You only have two years, anyway._

It's better this way. Really.

She tries to think of things in black and white, but it's hard when he starts laughing at something she says, or when he pushes her behind him when they're facing something that might be a _little_ too much for her to handle. She thinks, _maybe._

_Maybe_ has always been her fatal flaw.

* * *

It's six months and a lifetime's worth of adventures later when she starts getting headaches. Not run-of-the-mill migraines, not even something-is-off-and-my-head-is-realizing-it headaches. These are head-splitting, world-shattering, haze-inducing headaches.

So one day, Cassandra tells the team she needs a day off 'for some alone time'. She's not a very good liar, and she can tell they don't completely believe her, but they don't say anything, so it's okay.

She waits in the white-stained waiting room for too long, smelling the terrible scents that come with any hospital - bleach, and sickness. She solves a quick equation, and sighs in relief. There it is. Omelettes.

"Ms. Cillian?"

She stands up, too fast, and she throws herself off balance. The nurse that had called her name braces her before she can fall to the floor. She's sure the nurse is saying something, but it's all a little fuzzy, and she's mainly just focused on staying on her feet. She sits down in a chair, and puts her head in her hands.

"Cassandra?" A voice says, and she lifts her head. A woman whose pin reads _Dr._ _Lambert_ is settling into the chair across from her.

"Hi." Cassandra says weakly.

"How about you tell me why you've come in here?" The doctor is looking at her medical file, and Cassandra can tell by the look on her face when she reads about the tumor. She's seen that look a lot.

"I've been having headaches - really bad ones." She says, and the doctor nods. She asks a few more questions, which Cassandra answers automatically, but afterwards she can't remember what they were.

"We're going to send you in for a CAT scan, okay?" Dr. Lambert asks, and Cassandra nods, forcing herself to her feet. She heads down to the second floor, accompanied by the nurse - Jackie, her nametag reads. She settles into the long, white bed and tries to tell herself that she _isn't_ claustrophobic. She's done this before, she thinks, so it shouldn't be as bad this time.

It is. But then it's over, and she can breathe again, and the door opens to Dr. Lambert's face that tells her everything she needs to know.

Dr. Lambert sits her down, and pulls up the scan. Cassandra doesn't want to look at it, but she does - just for a brief second. The brain grape is...well, it's not a grape anymore.

"How long do I have?" She asks weakly, and Dr. Lambert looks at her pityingly.

"I'd give you about a month."

_A month._

Cassandra somehow makes her legs work enough to walk out of the hospital. The walls seem like they're closing in on her, and her chest is tight. There isn't enough air, even as she steps outside. The doctor must be wrong. She needs more than a month.

She doesn't trust herself to drive, so she takes a cab back to the library. She doesn't know how she'll be able to hide it from them, but she doesn't have anywhere else to go. They're her home, now.

When she gets back, it's empty. She wasn't expecting Flynn, but Baird, Zeke, Jake...even Jenkins must have gone out for something.

She drinks in the silence and lets herself cry.

When they get back, it's Jake who sees her first. Jake, who comes to kneel next her and wrap his arms around her. The others follow, quickly, surrounding her with worried faces. She can imagine how she must look - tear-stained, shaking, unable to speak.

"Cassandra?" Zeke sounds scared.

"Hey, Cassie. It's alright." Jake says soothingly. She can't even think, for a while. Can't speak.

"I went to the hospital today." She whispers, eventually.

"What? Why didn't you tell us?" Baird cuts in, but takes another look at her face and stops.

"I didn't - I didn't want to worry you. _Any_ of you. I thought it was just some headaches."

"But it wasn't." Jake's voice isn't questioning.

"No." She whispers. Maybe if she doesn't say it loud enough, it won't be real. There's those damn _maybe'_s again. "It wasn't."

They don't ask her to say anything else, and she's so grateful.

"How long?" Jake asks later, _hours_ later, when she's cried herself out but he still hasn't moved. She snuggles deeper into his arms, closing her eyes. She doesn't want to answer, but she does anyway. He deserves that much.

"A month."

"A _month?"_ His breath whooshes out of him. "Dammit, Cassie -" He cuts himself off, and now there's something else in his voice that she can't decipher.

"I know."

Life goes on as usual, except now it's like she's in hyperdrive. Every day, she wakes up thinking _this is it. This could be the last one._ She starts telling everyone she loves them, as soon as she's out of bed.

"Dammit, Cassie." Jake always replies. "You're not leaving yet."

She loves him a little more for saying it.

She starts seeing a little less of him for whatever reason, and whenever she notices her chest tightens up, just a bit. She tries to ignore it. Whatever she feels, she's glad she never told him. The last thing he'll need is more pain when she's gone.

* * *

It happens, of all times, when they're playing cards.

The headaches have been getting worse, and so she's been cooped up in the library for weeks. They've been trying to keep her amused, and so they brought out a deck of cards. Cassandra always wins, but they always keep playing.

When it hits, everything else fades. She's left with earth-splitting agony, ricocheting through her entire body. She can't think, can't breathe, can't - can't - can't -

She passes out, eventually. She's pretty sure that the last thing she'll ever see is the color red, and she can't help but wish that it was them, instead.

She wonders what death will be like.

* * *

"Cassandra? Cassie? Dammit, _open your eyes_ -"

Everything is strange. Her eyes are too hard to peel open, her fingers too heavy, the lights too bright.

"Where - ?" She can't finish her sentence. She's surprised she can even speak._ Is this heaven?_

"Cassandra, you're alive, and hopefully will be for quite a while longer." She blinks away the fuzz from her eyes and sees Flynn, excitement and relief on his face. She turns her head and sees Baird, standing in the corner; Zeke, perched on the edge of her bed; Jake, sitting in the chair next to her.

"How am I still alive?" She asks, but it comes out as a croak. She doesn't understand how any of this could _happen._

"Jake." Baird says simply, and Cassandra turns her head to look at him. He has bags under his eyes, and by the looks of his hair he's been sleeping in that exact chair, but she's never seen him look happier.

"I've been looking for something." He admits. "An artifact. I knew it was out there - I just didn't know if I could find it in time." So _that's_ why she hadn't been seeing as much of him. "I almost didn't." He adds.

"But you did." Cassandra reaches out and squeezes his hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Baird silently ushering Flynn and Zeke out of the room. Cassandra wonders a little, why they're all leaving, but she trusts Baird.

"Cassie, I almost -" Jake runs a hand through his hair. "I almost lost you."

_You never had me_, Cassandra thinks, but instead she swallows and says "I know."

Jake looks back up at her, his fingers gripping hers tighter. "When I saw you fall, I thought you were going to die. I thought that was it, and I didn't want you to die without knowing -" He breaks off, and that niggling feeling in Cassandra's chest is getting bigger, threatening to envelop her. "Listen, I -" He stops again, and this time Cassandra can't resist.

"I know, dummy." She says, and pulls him toward her.

The kiss is soft and sweet and everything she ever could've imagined it to be. And when they pull apart, Cassandra links her fingers with his and rests her forehead against his chest.

"I'd love to continue this," She says, blushing, "but I'm really, really tired."

"Okay." Jake says, kissing the top of her head lightly and moving so she can lean back against the pillows. He doesn't withdraw his hands, though, and as Cassandra drifts off to sleep she thinks that, above all else, she feels a lot like she just found home.

She still thinks about numbers. But now she thinks she might have something better.


End file.
